Doctor  in  Spite  of 
self :  a  Farce  in  Two 
s :  by  Moliere :  Trans- 
d  by  Barrett  H.  Clark 


uel  French :  Publisher 

est  Thirty-eighth  Street :  New  York 

LONDON 

muel  French,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street,  Strand 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


PQ  I836 
E53 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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This  book  is  due  at  the  LOUIS  R.  WILSON  LIBRARY  on  the 
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DATE 
DUE 


RET. 


DATE 
DUE 


RET. 


VED  MAR  0  3 


WW 


DEC  2  1.  1978  Vt 


APR  2!)  B 


f  OV3  0  7i 


APRS  3 '8 


MAY  2  3  1980 


— 


JUL  2  4 '80 


AUG  a 


M2  1- 


THE  WORLD'S  BEST  PLATS 

BY  CELEBRATED  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 

BARRETT  H.  CLARK 
GENERAL  EDITOR 


The  Doctor  in  Spite  of 
Himself :  a  Farce  in  Two 
Acts :  by  Moliere :  Trans- 
lated by  Barrett  H.  Clark 


Samuel  French :  Publisher 

28-30  West  Thirty-eighth  Street :  New  York 

LONDON 

Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street,  Strand 


Copyright,  1915, 
By  SAMUEL  FRENCH 


THE 

DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF 


Jean-Baptiste  Poquelin,  known  as  Moliere,  is  the 
greatest  writer  of  comedy  which  France  has  pro- 
duced, and  one  of  the  great  dramatists  of  the  world. 
Born  at  Paris  in  1622,  educated  for  the  law,  he 
determined  to  become  an  actor,  and,  together  with 
some  associates,  in  1643  built  a  theater  which  he 
called  "  L'lllustre  Theatre."  After  three  years' 
unsuccessful  career  in  Paris,  Moliere  and  his 
troupe  disbanded,  and  Moliere  and  one  or  two  of 
the  original  company  joined  one  of  the  wandering 
troupes  which  were  so  common  at  the  time,  and 
toured  the  provinces  for  many  years.  His  first 
"  finished  "  play  was  "  L'Etourdi  " — The  Blunderer 
— which  was  produced  at  Lyons  in  1653  or  1655. 
After  the  production  of  his  second  important  play 
— "  Le  Depit  Amoureux — Moliere  went  to  Paris 
and  there,  under  the  patronage  of  the  King's 
brother,  appeared  before  Louis  XIV  in  1658  in  an 
unsuccessful  production  of  a  tragedy  of  Corneille. 
But  a  little  comedy  of  Moliere,  which  followed  the 
tragedy,  so  pleased  the  King  that  the  comedian 
was  given  a  theater.  The  first  important  play  that 
was  produced  there  was  "  The  Blunderer."  This 
was  followed  by  "  Le  Depit  Amoureux,"  "  Les 
Precieuses  Ridicules,"  "  Sganarelle,"  "  Dom  Garcie 
de  Navarre,"  "  L'Ecole  des  Maris,"  "  Les 
Facheux,"  "  Le  Bourgeois  Gentilhomme"  and 
"  L'Ecole  des  Females."     Some  of  his  greatest 


I  9  /  ^ 


4    THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


plays — "  Le  Misanthrope  "  and  "  Tartufe  "  were 
produced  not  long  after. 

Moliere  was  even  in  his  own  day  considered  one 
of  the  greatest  contemporary  actors.  Favored  by 
the  King,  his  ideas  upheld  by  the  greatest  critic 
of  the  age,  Boileau,  accepted  by  the  general  public, 
he  was  in  every  sense  of  the  word  a  celebrity.  On 
the  17th  of  February,  1673,  ne  died  at  Paris. 

"  Le  Medecin  Malgre  Lui  " — "  The  Doctor  in 
Spite  of  Himself  " — was  performed  at  Paris  in 
1666,  at  the  famous  Palais-Royal.  The  play  may 
be  considered  as  an  interlude,  a  relaxation,  be- 
tween pieces  of  a  more  serious  nature.  Yet  the 
skill  and  goor-humor  that  go  to  make  up  this  quaint 
farce,  are  the  work  of  a  master.  The  play  is  still 
seen  at  frequent  intervals  at  the  Comedie  Fran<;ais€. 


"  The  Doctor  in  Spite  of  Himself  "  calls  for  the 
simplest  of  settings.  Any  set  representing  an 
opening  in  a  wood  may  be  used.  If  a  change  of 
scene  is  not  practicable,  the  entrance  to  Geronte's 
home  may  be  indicated  at  the  side  opposite  to  the 
clearing  in  the  wood.  If  however  a  change  is 
possible,  it  is  better  to  have  the  second  and  third 
scenes  represent  a  plain  interior. 

The  costumes  of  Sganarelle,  as  woodcutter  and 
doctor,  are  described  in  the  text.  The  other  char- 
acters wear  ordinary  Louis  XIV  costumes.  Late 
Elizabethan  costumes  may  however  be  worn  in 
case  the  French  ones  are  unobtainable. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Sganarelle  Martine's  husband 

Martine   Sganarelle' s  wife 

M.  Robert   Sganarelle1 's  neighbor 

Valere   Geronte's  servant 

Lucas   Jacqueline's  husband 

Jacqueline  . .  .Lucas'  wife,  and  nurse  in  Geronte's 

home 

Lucinde   Geronte's  daughter 

Geronte   A  country  gentleman 

Leandre   Lucinde' s  lover 

Scene  : — A  clearing  in  a  wood. 


Time": — Late  seventeenth  century. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/doctorinspiteofhOOmoli 


THE 

DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF 


ACT  I. 

Scene: — A  wood. 
{Enter  Sganarelle  and  Martine,  quarrelling.) 

Sganarelle.  No,  I  tell  you,  I  will  do  nothing  of 
the  kind:  I  am  master  here. 

Martine.  And  I  tell  you  you  shall  live  as  I 
want  you  to.  I  didn't  marry  you  to  put  up  with 
your  nonsense. 

Sganarelle.  Oh,  what  a  plague  it  is  to  have  a 
wife ! 

Martine.  Cursed  be  the  day  when  I  took  it  into 
my  head  to  say  "  Yes." 

Sganarelle.  Cursed  be  the  notary  who  made 
me  sign  my  own  ruination! 

Martine.  Much  right  have  you  to  complain  of 
that!  Oughtn't  you  rather  to  thank  heaven  all  the 
time  that  you  have  me  for  a  wife? 

Sganarelle.  It's  true  you  honored  me  too 
greatly.  Goodness !  don't  make  me  go  too  far — I 
might  tell  you  something  

Martine.    Come,  now,  what  could  you  say? 

Sganarelle.  Enough;  let  us  stop  right  here. 
It's  enough  that  I  know  what  I  know,  and  I  repeat 
you  were  very  lucky  to  get  me. 

7 


8   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


Martine.  What  do  you  mean  by  your  "  very 
lucky  to  get  you  ?  "  A  man  who  will  drive  me  into 
the  gutter,  a  drunkard  who  eats  up  all  I  have! 

Sganarelle.    Now  that's  a  lie — I  drink  part  of 

it. 

Martine.    Who  sells  everything  in  the  house. 

Sganarelle.  That's  what  I  call  living  within 
one's  income. 

Martine.  Who  has  taken  away  my  very  bed 
from  under  me! 

Sganarelle.  You  will  get  up  so  much  the  earlier. 

Martine.  Who  leaves  me  nothing  in  the  whole 
house. 

Sganarelle.  There  won't  be  so  much  trouble 
when  we  move. 

Martine.  Who  from  morning  to  night  does 
nothing  but  eat  and  drink. 

Sganarelle.    That's  to  keep  me  occupied. 

Martine.  And  what  do  you  think  I  shall  do  with 
my  family  in  the  meanwhile? 

Sganarelle.   Whatever  you  please. 

Martine.  I  have  four  poor  little  children  on 
my  hands. 

Sganarelle.   Put  them  on  the  ground. 

Martine.  Who  are  continually  begging  me  for 
bread. 

Sganarelle.  Give  them  the  rod.  When  I  have 
enough  to  eat  and  drink,  the  family  ought  to  be 
satisfied. 

Martine.  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  you 
drunkard,  that — ? 

Sganarelle.    Gently,  please. 

Martine.  I  am  forever  to  put  up  with  your 
insolence  and — ? 

Sganarelle.    Just  let's  keep  calm,  wife. 

Martine.   Who  could,  with  you  for  a  husband! 

Sganarelle.  My  dear,  you  know  my  patience  is 
very  short-lived,  and  my  arm  knows  how  to  wield 
a  club. 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  9 


Martine.  I  laugh  at  your  silly  threats.  See, 
I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  you. 

Sganarelle.  My  better  half,  you  desire  a  beat- 
ing, I  see. 

Martine.  You  think  I'm  frightened  at  your 
talk! 

Sganarelle.  Sweet  object  of  my  love,  I  shall 
box  your  ears. 

Martine.    Drunkard ! 
#  Sganarelle.     {He   beats  her;  she  screams) 

That  is  the  best  way  to  make  you  keep  still. 

{Enter  M.  Robert.) 

M.  Robert.  Here,  here,  here!  what's  this? 
What  a  disgraceful  affair! 

(Martine  comes  up  to  him,  looks  him  in  the  face, 
and  after  a  short  pause,  deliberately  slaps 
him.) 

Martine.    I  like  to  have  him  beat  me. 
M.  Robert.   Very  well,  then;  I  don't  object. 
Martine.  What  business  is  it  of  yours? 
M.  Robert.    None  whatsoever. 
Martine.    Impertinent  fellow!  to  interfere  with 
a  husband  who  is  beating  his  wife. 
M.  Robert.    I  am  very  sorry,  indeed, 
j  Martine.   Mind  your  own  business. 

M.  Robert.    I  shall  say  nothing  more. 
Martine.    I  tell  you,  I  wish  to  be  beaten. 
M.  Robert.    Very  well,  then. 
Martine.   You  are  a  fool  to  interfere  with  other 
people's  business. 

(M.  Robert  goes  to  Sganarelle,  who  hits  him  and 
drives  him  a  few  feet  off.) 

M.  Robert.    Neighbor,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Go 


io   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


on,  whack  your  wife  as  much  as  you  please;  in  fact, 
I'll  help  you  if  you  like. 

Sganarelle.    I  do  not  like. 

M.  Robert.    Oh,  that's  a  different  thing. 

Sganarelle.  I'll  beat  her  if  I  like;  and  I  won't 
beat  her  if  I  don't  like. 

M.  Robert.   All  right;  it's  not  my  fault. 

Sganarelle.    She  is  my  wife,  and  not  yours. 

M.  Robert.  I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least,  Mon- 
sieur ! 

Sganarelle.   And  you  are  exceedingly  impudent 
to  meddle  with   other  people's   concerns.  (M. 
Robert  goes  out.   Sganarelle  goes  to  his  wife  and 
takes  her  hand)    Come,  now,  let's  make  up  and  be  < 
happy. 

Martine.    I  won't. 

Sganarelle.    What ! 

Martine.   No,  I  won't. 

Sganarelle.    Now,  now. 

Martine.    I  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind. 

Sganarelle.    Come,  come,  come. 

Martine.   No,  I  will  be  angry. 

Sganarelle.    Come,  now ;  it's  only  a  trifle. 

Martine.    Let  me  be,  I  tell  you ! 

Sganarelle.    I  ask  your  forgiveness. 

Martine.     Well,    I    forgive   you   this  time. 
{Aside)    But  you  will  pay  for  it. 

Sganarelle.  Oh,  it's  nothing.  A  little  beating 
now  and  then  between  those  who  truly  love  only 
increases  affection.  There  now,  I'm  going  to  the 
forest,  and  I  promise  you  more  than  a  hundred  fag- 
gots to-day.    {He  goes  out) 

Martine.  I  shan't  forget  what  I  owe  him  for 
that  beating.  I'll  get  him  a  beating  he  won't  soon 
forget.  {She  retires  to  the  rear  of  the  stage,  ap- 
parently planning) 

{Enter  Valere  and  Lucas.) 
Lucas.    I'll  be  cursed  if  we  haven't  the  devil 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF,  u 


of  an  errand ;  I  don't  know  neither,  what  I'll  get  out 
of  it. 

Valere.  What  do  you  want  us  to  do  ?  We  must 
do  as  our  master  tells  us ;  besides,  our  mistress's 
health  concerns  us ;  because  her  wedding,  that's  de- 
layed because  of  her  strange  malady,  may  prove  a 
windfall  for  us.  That  Cleante,  who  wants  to 
marry  her,  seems  likely  to  get  her,  though  I've 
noticed  she  has  some  liking  fcr  Leandre.  Of 
course,  her  father  would  never  have  him  for  his 
son-in-law. 

Lucas.  What  has  he  got  into  his  head,  I 
wonder  ?  How  do  we  know  where  to  find  a  doctor 
for  our  mistress? 

Valere.  We  have  only  to  look,  and  I  feel  sure 
our  efforts  will  be  rewarded  

(Martine,  who  has  been  talking  to  herself  at  the 
back  of  the  stage,  is  heard  to  say:) 

Martine.  Yes :  I  must  give  it  to  him.  I  can't 
get  over  that  beating  he  gave  me.  (She  in- 
advertently bumps  into  Lucas  and  Valere)  Ah, 
Messieurs,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  see  you,  as 
I  was  racking  my  brains  over  something  that 
troubles  me. 

Valere.  Everyone  has  his  troubles  here  on 
earth ;  we  too  are  looking  for  something. 

Martine.  Is  it  something  in  which  I  might  help 
you  ? 

Valere.    Perhaps.    We  are  looking  for  a  skilful 
physician,  one  who  could  cure  our  master's  daugh- 
ter.    She  was  stricken  dumb  a  short  time  ago. 
Several  doctors  have  employed  their  utmost  knowl- 
„   edge  and  profoundest  skill,  but  in  vain. 

Martine.  Ah,  Messieurs,  you  coud  not  possibly 
have  found  one  better  fitted  than  your  humble 
servant:  I  know  of  a  wonderful  man,  just  the  one 
you  are  looking  for. 


12   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


Valere.   Good!   Where  is  he? 
Marti ne.    You  will  find  him  there,  chopping 
wood  and  making  faggots  for  amusement. 
Lucas.    A  physician  chopping  wood! 
Valere.   Impossible ! 

Martine.  Nothing's  impossible.  He  is  an  odd 
fellow  who  pleases  himself  that  way;  a  peculiar, 
eccentric  man.  You  would  never  in  the  world  take 
him  for  a  doctor.  He  goes  around  dressed  like  a 
woodsman,  pretends  to  be  ignorant,  and  heartily 
dislikes  using  his  wonderful  skill  as  a  physician. 

Valere.  It's  very  strange  that  all  men  of  genius 
are  slightly  off,  so  to  speak. 

Martine.  Oh,  he's  madder  than  you'd  think; 
for  sometimes  he  has  to  be  beaten  before  he  will 
confess  that  he's  a  doctor  at  all.  We  have  to  beat 
him  whenever  anyone's  sick. 

Lucas.    How  strange! 

Martine.  Quite  true,  but  when  he  has  finally 
confessed,  he  does  wonderful  things. 

Valere.   What's  his  name? 

Martine.  Sganarelle.  He  is  a  man  with  a  long 
black  beard,  wears  a  ruff,  and  a  yellow  and  green 
coat. 

Lucas.   A  yellow  and  green  coat? 
Valere.    But  can  he  really  work  such  wonders 
as  you  say? 

Martine.  Miracles !  Six  months  ago,  a  woman 
was  given  up  for  dead  and  was  about  to  be  buried. 
This  Sganarelle  was  brought,  after  a  severe  beat- 
ing, and  put  a  drop  of  some  magical  liquid  into  the 
poor  woman's  mouth,  after  which  she  rose  and 
walked  about  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Lucas.  Wonderful !  He  must  have  some  magic 
cure. 

Martine.   No  doubt  at  all. 
Lucas.  Well,  he's  the  very  man  we  want.  We'll 
find  him  at  once. 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  13 


Valere.  We  are  very  much  obliged  to  you, 
Madame. 

Martine.  Pray,  don't  mention  it.  But  don't 
forget  what  I  said  about  that  beating,  for  I  am 
very  anxious  to  have  you  succeed. 

Lucas.  Just  you  leave  us  alone  on  that  score, 
my  fine  lady.  If  it's  only  a  beatin'  he  wants,  I'll 
serve  him ! 

Valere.  Ah,  Lucas,  we  are  very  lucky  indeed. 
This  is  a  find.  (Valere  and  Lucas  retire  to  the 
back  of  the  stage,  and  converse  in  an  undertone) 

{Enter  Sganarelle,  with  a  bottle,  singing.) 

Valere.  Hush-sh-sh.  I  hear  someone  singing, 
and  I  just  heard  the  chopping  of  wood. 

Sganarelle.  {Laying  down  his  bottle,  and 
stretching  out  his  arms,  after  yawning:)  Well, 
this  is  hard  work!  Time  for  a  bit  of  comforting 
spirits.  (He  drinks  from  the  bottle,  and  then 
sings:) 

"  What  comfort  is  there  more  on  earth 
Than  thou,  Oh  bottle  brown, 
Thou  rousest  all  mankind  to  mirth, 
And  dost  dispel  the  frown." 

Ah,  a  little  of  the  bottle  now  and  then,  to  chase 
away  black  melancholy. 

Valere.    That's  the  fellow,  I  do  believe. 

Lucas.    I  think  you're  right,  Valere. 

Valere.    Let's  come  nearer! 

Sganarelle.  (Aside)  What  the  deuce  do 
these  people  want,  anyway? 

Valere.    I'm  sure  he's  the  one. 

Sganarelle.  (He  puts  the  bottle  on  the  ground, 
but  seeing  Valere  approach,  picks  it  up  and  puts 
it  on  the  opposite  side;  but  seeing  Lucas  approach 
from  the  other,  he  takes  it  up  and  hugs  it)  What 
in  the  world  can  they  mean  ? 


14   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


Valere.    Monsieur,  isn't  your  name  Sganarelle? 

Sganarelle.  (To  Valere)  Yes,  (To  Lucas) 
and  No.  It  depends  on  what  you  want  with 
Sganarelle. 

Valere.  We  don't  want  anything  except  to 
offer  him  our  best  regards. 

Sganarelle.  Well,  then — my  name  is  Sganarelle. 

Valere.  Delighted  to  meet  you,  Monsieur.  We 
have  been  recommended  to  you  for  a  service  we 
are  in  great  need  of.  We  have  come  to  beg  your 
assistance. 

Sganarelle.  Messieurs,  if  it  is  anything  about 
my  business,  I  am  entirely  at  your  service. 

Valere.  You  are  too  kind,  Monsieur.  Skilful 
people  are  much  in  demand,  and  we  have  been  told 
of  your  wonderful  cures  

Sganarelle.  Ah,  you  flatter  me,  though,  with- 
out bragging,  I  must  confess  that  I'm  the  best  in 
the  world  at  faggot-making. 

Valere.    No  doubt,  Monsieur. — 

Sganarelle.  I  never  give  short  measure — I  do 
my  work  in  a  

Valere.  That  is  not  the  reason  we  came  to  see 
you.    We  have  

Sganarelle.  And  I  sell  them  at  ten  sous  the 
hundred. 

Valere.  Let's  drop  that  subject,  if  you  please. 
Sganarelle.    I  declare,  I  can't  afford  to  sell 

them  cheaper.    As  it  is,  I  only  

Valere.    We  know  that,  Monsieur,  but  we  

Sganarelle.    If  you  know  that,  then  you  know 

that  I  am  honest  and  upright  in  my  dealings  

Valere.    You  are  joking,  Monsieur  

Sganarelle.    I  am  not:  I  can't  make  them  for 

less. 

Valere.  Pray,  Monsieur,  let's  change  the  sub- 
ject. 

Sganarelle.  You  can  get  someone  else  to  make 
your  faggots  for  you — I  tell  you  I  can't  


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  15 


Valere.  Ah,  Monsieur,  let's  not  go  on  in  this 
way. 

Sganarelle.    I  swear  to  you  I  can't  make  them 
for  a  sou  less. 
Valere.    Come,  come ! 

Sganarelle.  I  tell  you,  it's  impossible  to  get 
them  for  less.    And  I  don't  overcharge — — 

Valere.  Ought  so  great  a  doctor  as  you  to  wish 
to  hide  his  great  ability  from  the  world" — ? 

Sganarelle.    (Aside)    He's  crazy. 

Valere.  Now,  now,  don't  try  to  make  me  be- 
lieve  

Sganarelle.    What  do  you  mean,  Monsieur? 
Lucas.    Come,  this  is  all  nonsense — I  know  what 
I  know. 

Sganarelle.  What  is  it  then?  Whom  do  you 
th;nk  I  am? 

Valere.   Just  what  you  are :  a  great  doctor. 

Sganarelle.  Doctor  yourself.  I'm  not  one, 
never  was,  and  never  hope  to  be. 

Valere.  (Aside)  Now  he's  got  it!  (To 
Sganarelle)  Don't  pretend  any  longer,  Mon- 
sieur, and  please  don't  force  us  to  take  extreme 
measures. 

Sganarelle.    How's  that? 

Valere.   Oh,  something  we  should  not  like  to  do. 

Sganarelle.  Lord!  Do  whatever  you  like. 
I'm  no  doctor  and  I  don't  understand  a  word  you 
are  saying. 

Valere.  Once  more,  Monsieur,  I  beg  you  to 
confess  that  you're  a  doctor. 

Sganarelle.  Why,  I'm  only  a  common  wood- 
man.   Do  you  wish  to  drive  me  crazy  ? 

Valere.    Why  do  you  persist  in  lying? 

Sganarelle.  What's  the  use  of  my  telling  you 
a  thousand  times:  I  am  no  doctor? 

Valere.   You  are  not  a  doctor  ? 

Sganarelle.    No,  I  tell  you. 

Valere.    So  be  it,  then. 


i6   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


{They  beat  him  severely.) 

Sganarelle.  Stop,  stop !  Messieurs,  I'll  be  any- 
thing you  wish. 

Valere.  That's  better,  now.  But  why  did  you 
force  us  to  do  this,  Monsieur?  I  assure  you  I 
regret  it  very  much. 

Sganarelle.  What  the  devil?  For  Heaven's 
sake,  are  you  joking,  or  are  you  both  out  of  your 
heads?  Do  you  say  I  am  a — you're  mad — a 
doctor  ? 

Valere.  What!  you  don't  admit  it  yet?  You 
still  deny  that  you're  a  doctor? 

Sganarelle.   Plague  take  me  if  I  am ! 

Lucas.   Ain't  you  a  doctor,  then? 

Sganarelle.  No,  I  tell  you.  {They  beat  him 
again)  Oh,  oh!  well,  since  you  will  have  it  so, 
I  am  a  doctor — an  apothecary,  too,  if  you  wish  it. 
I'll  agree  to  anything  rather  than  be  beaten  again. 

Valere.  Very  well,  Monsieur,  I'm  pleased  to 
see  you  so  reasonable.  I  ask  your  pardon  with  all 
my  heart  and  soul,  Monsieur. 

Sganarelle.  {Aside)  Why,  bless  me,  have  I 
really  become  a  doctor  without  knowing  it? 

Valere.  You  shall  have  no  cause  to  regret  any- 
thing, Monsieur.    You  shall  be  satisfied. 

Sganarelle.  But  tell  me,  are  you  quite  sure 
you're  not  mistaken?  Are  you  sure  I'm  a  real 
doctor  ? 

Lucas.  Undoubtedly. 

Sganarelle.   Really  ? 

Valere.  Assuredly. 

Sganarelle.   Deuce  take  me  if  I  knew  it ! 
Valere.   Why,  you  are  the  greatest  doctor  in  the 
world. 

Sganarelle.    Indeed ! 

Lucas.  A  doctor  who  has  done  innumerable 
cures. 

Sganarelle.   The  devil! 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  17 


Valere.  In  short,  Monsieur,  you  will  be  satis- 
fied, and  will  be  paid  any  fee  you  wish,  if  you  will 
let  us  take  you  with  us. 

Sganarelle.    I  shall  receive  any  fees  I  wish? 

Valere.  Yes. 

Sganarelle.  Well,  in  that  case,  I  certainly  am 
a  doctor.  I  must  have  forgotten  it;  but  now  I  re- 
member.  Where  do  I  go  ? 

Valere.  We  will  take  you ;  it  is  to  a  young  girl 
who  has  lost  her  speech. 

Sganarelle.    Well,  I  haven't  found  it. 

Valere.    Come,  Monsieur. 

Sganarelle.  Here,  Monsieur,  you  carry  this 
bottle.  I — I — a — a — keep  my  medicine  in  it.  (They 
go  out) 

ACT  II. 

Scene: — Before  Geronte's  house. 

(Enter  Geronte,  Valere,  Lucas,  Jacqueline.) 

■  Valere.  Yes,  Monsieur,  I'm  sure  you  will  be 
satisfied;  we  have  brought  you  the  most  illustrious 
doctor  in  the  world. 

Lucas.  He  has  mended  folks  that's  dead; 
that's  what  he's  done. 

Valere.  He  is  rather  peculiar,  as  I  said.  Lucas 
says  that  he  has  a  screw  loose  somewhere. 

Lucas.  Yes,  that's  what  I  said. 

Valere.  But  really,  this  is  only  a  pretence  to 
conceal  his  real  learning. 

Geronte.  I  should  like  very  much  to  see  him ; 
send  for  him  at  once. 

Valere.    Very  well.    (He  goes  out) 

Jacqueline.  You  can  take  my  word  for  it, 
Monsieur,  this  doctor'll  be  just  like  the  rest  of 
them.  I  just  tell  you  that  a  husband  to  her  liking  is 
the  only  cure  for  her. 


18    THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


Geronte.  Come,  now,  you  do  a  lot  of  meddling, 
nurse. 

Jacqueline.  Just  the  same,  it's  a  husband  she 
wants,  it  is. 

Geronte.  Who  would  take  her  as  she  is  now? 
I  offered  to  make  Louis  her  husband,  but  she  re- 
fused. 

Jacqueline.  And  no  wonder;  you  wanted  to 
give  her  to  a  man  she  didn't  like.  Why  don't  you 
give  her  to  Leandre?    She  likes  him. 

Geronte.  I  don't  like  Leandre;  he  has  no 
money;  Louis  has. 

Jacqueline.  Ah,  parents  nowadays  always  ask : 
"How  much  has  he?"  What's  the  use  of  any- 
thing, if  you  can't  be  happy,  I  say — ? 

Geronte.  Will  you  keep  still,  for  goodness' 
sake? 

(Enter  Valere  and  Sganarelle.) 

Valere.    Here  comes  the  doctor,  Monsieur. 

Geronte.  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  Monsieur. 
We  have  great  need  of  you. 

Sganarelle.  (In  a  black  gown  and  high  hat) 
Hippocrates  says — that  both  of  us  should  put  on 
our  hats. 

Geronte.    Hippocrates  says  that? 

Sganarelle.  Yes. 

Geronte.    In  what  chapter  does  he  say  that? 
Sganarelle.    In  his  chapter — on  hats. 
Geronte.    Well,  if  Hippocrates  says  so,  it  must 
be. 

Sganarelle.    Well,  doctor,  since  I  have  

Geronte.  Whom  are  you  speaking  to,  Mon- 
sieur ? 

Sganarelle.    To  you. 
Geronte.    I  am  not  a  doctor. 
Sganarelle.   What,  you  are  not  a  doctor? 
Geronte.    Certainly  not. 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  19 


Sganarelle.    (Beating  him)  Really? 
Geronte.    Oh,  oh, — Really.    I  tell  you  I  am  no 
doctor. 

Sganarelle.  Now  you  are  a  doctor.  I  have  no 
other  degree  than  you  have. 

Geronte.  What  sort  of  fellow  is  this  you  have 
brought  me! 

Valere.  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  rather  ec- 
centric? 

Geronte.  Yes ;  but  I  don't  like  his  eccentric- 
ities. 

Valere.  Never  mind,  Monsieur,  he  was  only 
joking. 

Geronte.    Well,  I  don't  like  his  kind  of  joking. 

Sganarelle.  Pardon  me  for  the  liberty  I  have 
taken.    I  am  very  sorry  

Geronte.  Don't  say  any  more  about  it.  I  have 
a  daughter  who  was  stricken  with  a  strange  disease. 

Sganarelle.  I  am  delighted  to  know  it,  I  can 
assure  you. 

Geronte.    Many  thanks. 

Sganarelle.    What  is  your  daughter's  name? 

Geronte.  Lucinde. 

Sganarelle.    Lucinde  ?   A  nice  name ! 

Geronte.  I  shall  go  and  see  what  she  is  doing. 
(He  goes  out) 

Sganarelle.  An  interesting  case,  upon  my 
word. — Ha!  someone  is  coming.  (Walks  up  and 
down  a  moment;  then — ) 

(Enter  Geronte,  leading  Lucinde.) 

Geronte.   Here  is  my  daughter. 

Sganarelle.    Is  this  the  patient? 

Geronte.  Yes :  my  only  child.  I  should  always 
regret  it  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  her.  If  she 
should  die  

Sganarelle.  Impossible,  sir.  She  must  not  die 
without  a  regular  prescription  from  the  Academy. 


20   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF 


Geronte.  Bring  a  chair,  there.  (A  chair  is 
brought) 

Sganarelle.    Not  so  bad,  this  patient ! 
Geronte.    She  smiles,  Monsieur ;  you  have  made 
her  smile. 

Sganarelle.  Of  course,  Monsieur,  it's  my  busi- 
ness. This  is  fine.  It  is  a  very  good  symptom. 
Well,  Mademoiselle,  what  ails  you?  'What  are 
your  pains? 

Lucinde.  (Making  various  gesticulations) 
Ouh,  oi,  oi ! 

Sganarelle.    What's  that? 
Lucinde.    Oi,  oi,  (Etc.) 

Sganarelle.  Ouh,  ouh,  oi,  oi,  I  don't  under- 
stand your  deuced  language. 

Geronte.  That's  just  what's  the  matter,  Mon- 
sieur. She  is  dumb,  and  therefore  I  was  compelled 
to  put  off  the  marriage. 

Sganarelle.    Why  was  that? 

Geronte.  The  man  she  is  to  marry  wants  to 
wait  for  her  to  get  better. 

Sganarelle.  Show  me  the  man  who  doesn't 
want  his  wife  dumb !  I  ony  wish  mine  had  that 
disease!    I  should  see  that  she  wasn't  soon  cured! 

Geronte.    Well,  cure  this  case,  at  any  rate. 

Sganarelle.  Don't  worry,  Monsieur.  Is  her 
pain  very  acute? 

Geronte.    Yes — very. 

Sganarelle.  That's  right.  (To  Lucinde)  Let 
me  feel  your  pulse.  Monsieur,  {To  Geronte)  I 
am  enlightened  as  to  your  daughter's  condition : 
she  is  dumb ! 

Geronte.  Yes;  that's  just  what's  the  matter 
with  her.    You  have  found  it  out  immediately. 

Sganarelle.  Of  course !  We  great  doctors 
know  things  at  once.  A  fool  would  have  been  dis- 
turbed and  puzzled,  and  would  have  beat  about  the 
bush.  But  I  tell  you  plainly:  your  daughter  is 
dumb. 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  21 


Geronte.    Yes;  but  how  did  it  happen? 

Sganarelle.    Very  simple:  she  lost  her  speech. 

Geronte.    Very  good;  but  why? 

Sganarelle.  Our  best  authorities  seem  to  agree 
that  it  arises  from  an  impediment  of  the  tongue. 

Geronte.  Yes,  but  tell  me  the  causes.  The 
authorities  must  surely  

Sganarelle.  Well,  Aristotle  says — many  fine 
things. 

Geronte.    I  can  readily  believe  it. 
Sganarelle.    He  was  a  great  man. 
Geronte.    No  doubt  of  it. 

Sganarelle.  A  very  great  man ;  a  man  who  was 
far  greater  than  I  am.  But,  to  return  to  the  ques- 
tion :  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  this  impediment 
arises  from  some  certain  peccant  humors.  Peccant 
— that  is  to  say — a — a — peccant.  For,  as  the  vapors 
exhumed  and  formed  by  a  certain  exhalation  of 
circuitous — a — you  understand  Latin? 

Geronte.  No. 

Sganarelle.  What,  you  don't  understand 
Latin? 

Geronte.  No. 

Sganarelle.  Carborias  influxorioum  arci 
thrumbi  thantrat,  etc.,  etc. 

Geronte.  Ah,  why  didn't  I  study  when  I  was 
young? 

Sganarelle.  So  these  vapors,  passing  from  the 
left  to  the  right  side,  come  into  contact  with  the 
lungs — Latin  armyan — Hebrew,  polyglum — and 
from  there  they  proceed  immediately  to  the — please 
follow  me  more  closely. 

Geronte.   I  am. 

Sganarelle.   have  a  certain  malignity  by 

a —  pay  attention  to  me. 

Geronte.   I  am,  monsieur. 

Sganarelle.  Which  is  always  caused  by  the 
sharpness  of  these,  and  the  concavity  of  the  dia- 


22    THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


phragm — nequaquam  in  uterque  imibus — and  there- 
fore your  daughter  is  dumb. 

Geronte.  No  one  could  possibly  argue  better. 
But,  Monsieur,  what  do  you  think  should  be  done? 

Sganarelle.   What  do  I  think  should  be  done? 

Geronte.  Yes. 

Sganarelle.  Well,  I  should  suggest  that  she  be 
put  immediately  to  bed,  and  take  plenty  of  bread 
and  wine. 

Geronte.   Why,  if  you  please? 

Sganarelle.  Because  this  wonderful  combina- 
tion often  produces  speech. 

Geronte.  What  a  great  man  you  are!  Quick, 
bring  some  bread  and  wine ! 

Sganarelle.  I  shall  soon  return  to  see  how 
the  patient  is  getting  on.    I  wish  you  good-day. 

Geronte.    One  moment  please. 

Sganarelle.   What  do  you  want? 

Geronte.    To  give  you  your  fee. 

Sganarelle.  {Holding  out  his  hand)  I  shall 
not  take  it. 

Geronte.    Ah,  Monsieur. 

Sganarelle.   Not  at  all. 

Geronte.    I  beg  of  you  

Sganarelle.  I  will  not — I  do  not  practise  for 
money. 

Geronte.    I'm  quite  sure  of  that. 
Sganarelle.     {Taking  the  money)    Is  it  full 
weight  ? 

Geronte.  Certainly. 

Sganarelle.    I  am  not  a  mercenary  doctor. 

Geronte.   I  can  readily  believe  it. 

Sganarelle.  I  am  not  inspired  by  any  base 
motive  for  gold.    No,  not  at  all. 

Geronte.  I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least.  Well,  I 
bid  you  good-day. 

Sganarelle.  Good-day,  Monsieur.  Never  for- 
get.   I  never  practise  for  money. 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  23 


(Geronte  goes  out.    Enter  Leandre.) 

Sganarelle.   Well,  this  isn't  so  bad  after  all  

Leandre.    I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur — I  wish 

some  help — I  am  

Sganarelle.     {Goes  up  to  him  and  feels  his 

pulse)    Your  pulse  is  very  bad.    You  have  a  severe 

case  of  

Leandre.  I'm  not  sick,  Monsieur;  it  isn't  that 
I  came  to  see  you  about. 

Sganarelle.  If  you  are  not  sick,  why  the  deuce 
do  you  not  say  so?    How  am  I  to  know? 

Leandre.  My  name  is  Leandre.  I  love  Lucinde, 
and  want  you  to  help  me  to  see  her,  as  I  am  for- 
b'dden  to  enter  her  home.  I  have  a  little  plan  in 
which  you  can  help  me,  and  upon  which  my  life 
and  happiness  depend. 

Sganarelle.  Why,  what  do  you  take  me  for? 
Do  you  think  doctors  should  lower  their  dignity  by 
dabbling  in  love  affairs  ? 

Leandre.  You  needn't  make  so  much  noise, 
though ! 

Sganarelle.  I  shall  make  so  much  noise  as  I 
please,  you  impudent  scoundrel ! 

Leandre.    Gently,  gently,  Monsieur ! 

Sganarelle.    Puppy ! 

Leandre.    Oh,  I  beseech  you! 

Sganarelle.  I'll  teach  you  not  to  insult  one^of 
my  rank  and  

Leandre.  {Giving  him  a  purse)  Please,  Mon- 
sieur, accept  

Sganarelle.  Well,  this  is — I  was  not  speaking 
of  you — of  course  not — the  idea!  You  are  a 
gentleman,  and  I  am  your  most  obedient  servant.  I 
was  saying  that  there  are  some  impudent  puppies 
in  the  world  that  think  they  can  insult  me;  and  I 
can't  help  getting  angry  at  them. 

Leandre.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur,  for  the 
liberty — : — 


24   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


Sganarelle.  Don't  say  another  word.  What 
is  the  business  in  hand,  now? 

Leandre.  I  must  tell  you,  Monsieur,  that 
Lucinde's  malady  is  a  mere  trick.  The  doctors 
don't  know  a  thing  about  it.  I  tell  you,  love's  the 
cause.  She  has  pretended  this  illness  to  escape  that 
odious  marriage  with  Louis.  Come  with  me, 
please,  and  I  shall  tell  you  all  about  it  on  the  way. 

Sganarelle.  Very  well,  Monsieur.  You  have 
interested  me  so  much  in  your  affair  that  I  promise 
you  the  patient  shall  either  be  yours  or  die. 

{They  go  out  and  return  a  moment  later,  Leandre 
disguised  as  an  apothecary.) 

Leandre.  I  don't  think  I  make  a  very  bad 
apothecary !  I  shall  deceive  her  father  without  any 
trouble. 

Sganarelle.    No  doubt  at  all. 

Leandre.  Only  I  wish  I  knew  five  or  six  long 
Latin  words  to  mix  with  my  conversation.  Then 
I  should  be  a  learned  man. 

Sganarelle.  Nonsense ;  it's  not  necessary.  The 
dress  is  sufficient.  I  don't  know  any  more  about 
medicine  than  you  do. 

Leandre.    How's  that? 

Sganarelle.  Deuce  take  me  if  I  know  a  thing 
about  it.    I  shall  confide  in  you,  Monsieur. 

Leandre.   What!   you're  not  really  

Sganarelle.  Of  course  not.  They  made  me  a 
doctor.  I  don't  know  anything,  I  tell  you.  I  left 
school  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  form.  But  now  I'm 
a  doctor.  A  shoemaker  who  spoils  a  pair  of  shoes 
is  blamed  for  it.  But  when  we  doctors  make  a  slip, 
their  dead  patients  never  blame  them.  They  can 
never  tell  what  medicine  killed  them.  Here  come 
some  people  who  want  to  be  cured.  Let's  give  them 
the  slip.  Go  and  wait  for  me  near  Lucinde's  home. 
(Leandre   goes   out.     Enter  Jacqueline  and 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  25 


Lucas)  Here  is  a  monster  nurse!  Ah,  nurse  of 
my  heart,  I  am  charmed  to  meet  you;  the  sight  of 
you  is  like  cassia,  rhubarb  and  senna  to  me,  and 
when  you  

Jacqueline.  Gracious  me,  Mr.  Doctor,  it's  no 
use  talkin'  to  me  that  way.  I  don't  understand  a 
single  word  of  your  Latin. 

Sganarelle.  It  is  not  necessary  for  one  to 
know  Latin  nowadays.    Who's  this?  (Hides) 

(Enter  Geronte.) 

Geronte.  Lucas,  have  you  seen  our  doctor 
lately? 

Lucas.    Yes,  Monsieur,  I've  seen  him. 
Geronte.   Where  is  he? 
Lucas.    I  don't  know. 

Geronte.  Go  and  see  what  my  daughter  is  do- 
ing. (Lucas  goes  out.  Enter  Sganarelle  and 
Leandre)    Ah,  Monsieur,  I  was  looking  for  you. 

Sganarelle.  Well,  I  was  coming.  How  is  the 
patient  ? 

Geronte.  She  is  somewhat  worse  since  taking 
your  remedy. 

Sganarelle.  So  much  the  better;  she  is  going 
to  be  cured. 

Geronte.  Yes,  but  I  think  she  will  choke  before 
she  is  cured. 

Sganarelle.  Don't  be  anxious  about  her.  I 
have  some  further  remedies  for  the  last  moment. 

Geronte.    Who  is  that  man  with  you? 

Sganarelle.    He  is  an  apothecary. 

Geronte.   Ah,  I  see. 

Sganarelle.  Your  daughter  will  need  him,  I 
feel  sure. 

(Enter  Jacqueline  and  Lucinde.) 

Jacqueline.  Here  is  your  daughter,  master; 
she  wished  to  walk  about  a  little. 


26   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


Sganarelle.  That  is  the  best  thing  for  her. 
Feel  her  pulse,  Apothecary,  I  shall  consult  about 
further  measures.  {He  draws  Geronte  over  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  stage  and  turns  him  away  from 
Lucinde  and  Leandre.  Each  time  Geronte 
starts  to  turn  round,  Sganarelle  prevents  him) 
Monsieur,  it  is  a  grave  question — among  us  doctors 
— For  Monsieur,  as  I  said  before,  I  think  it  highly 
probable  that — with  the  inequality  of  such  peccant 


(Lucinde  is  heard  muttering.) 

Geronte.  Listen!  my  daughter  spoke!  Oh, 
great  doctor,  excellent  doctor!  What  miracles  you 
can  perform!  How  can  I  ever  repay  you  for  the 
great  service  you  have  done  me! 

Sganarelle.  {Strutting  about  and  stroking  his 
beard)  Hem!  hem!  This  has  been  a  very  trouble- 
some case  for  me,  indeed. 

Lucinde.  Yes,  Father,  I  have  recovered  my 
speech,  but  only  to  tell  you  that  I  will  marry  no 
one  but  Leandre,  and  that  it  is  useless  to  try  to 
force  me  to  accept  Louis  

Geronte.   But  I  shall  

Lucinde.    Nothing  can  shake  my  resolution. 

Geronte.   What  is  this?   Am  I  to — ? 

Lucinde.    All  your  arguments  are  useless. 

Geronte.  But  I  will  force  you  to  marry  him, 
and  if  you  

Lucinde.  I  will  not  submit  to  such  tyrrany.  No, 
no,  no !  {She  says  this  last  in  a  shrill  and  piercing 
voice) 

Geronte.  My,  oh,  my!  Oh,  doctor,  I  beseech 
you  to  make  her  dumb  again!  My  fortune  will  be 
your  pay  for  it. 

Sganarelle.  My  utmost  skill  can  but  make  you 
deaf,  which  is  some  consolation  

Geronte.    Many  thanks!    {To  Lucinde)  And 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  27 


as  for  you,  you  will  marry  Louis  this  very  evening. 

Lucinde.    I  would  sooner  die ! 

Sganarelle.  Stop  this  wrangling  at  once.  I 
know  a  remedy  that  will  cure  her. 

Geronte.    Is  it  possible  ? 

Sganarelle.  Certainly.  Just  let  me  arrange  it. 
I  shall  need  the  apothecary.  (To  Leandre,  aside) 
One  word,  Monsieur.  The  only  remedy  I  know  of 
in  this  case  is  one  matrimonium  pill.  You  must 
persuade  her  to  take  the  medicine  at  once.  Give 
her  also  a  dose  of  elopement.  Go  into  the  garden 
now  and  persuade  her  to  take  these  remedies.  I 
shall  speak  with  her  father  in  the  meanwhile. 
(Lucinde  and  Leandre  go  out) 

Geronte.  What  are  those  drugs  you  just  men- 
tioned, Monsieur?  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  of 
them  before. 

Sganarelle.    They  are  used  in  extreme  cases. 

Geronte.   Did  you  ever  see  such  impudence  ? 

Sganarelle.    Indeed,  never. 

Geronte.  I  think  she  is  just  the  kind  of  girl  who 
would  elope  with  him. 

Sganarelle.   You  don't  believe  that  ? 

Geronte.  I  shall  take  good  care  that  they  shall 
not  see  each  other. 

Sganarelle.  Believe  me,  that  is  a  very  prudent 
step. 

(Enter  Lucas.) 

Lucas.  Oh,  Master,  here's  a  pretty  mess.  Your 
daughter's  run  away  with  her  Leandre !  It  was  him 
as  played  the  'pothecary,  and  this  is  the  doctor  that 
gave  the  remedy. 

Geronte.  What!  Abuse  me  in  this  shameful 
manner!  Quick!  fetch  the  police.  Here,  you  hold 
this  rascal!    (Geronte  goes  out) 

Lucas.  ,  (Collaring  Sganarelle)  Take  my 
word  for  it,  you'll  hang  for  this! 


28   THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF. 


(Enter  Martine.) 

Marti ne.  Goodness  me !  What's  become  of  that 
doctor  I  recommended  to  you? 

Lucas.  Here  he  is.  He's  just  going  to  be 
hanged. 

Martine.   My  husband  hanged !  Why? 

Lucas.  He  helped  someone  elope  with  the 
Master's  daughter. 

Marti  ne.  Alas,  my  dear  husband,  are  you  "^ng 
to  be  hanged  ? 

Sganarelle.    Don't  you  see?    What  can  I  do? 

Martine.  Unhappy  me!  If  you  had  only 
finished  chopping  the  wood,  there  might  have  been 
some  consolation ! 

Sganarelle.    Go  away,  you  grieve  me. 

Martine.  No,  no,  I  shall  stay  and  encourage  you 
to  die;  I'll  not  leave  you  until  I  see  you  hanged. 

Sganarelle.    Thanks,  my  dear  wife. 

(Enter  Geronte.) 

Geronte.  The  police  officer  will  soon  be  here 
and  you  will  be  behind  the  bars. 

Sganarelle.  Ah,  my  dear  Monsieur,  (Bowing 
and  taking  off  his  hat)  wouldn't  a  few  blows  from 
that  stick  be  sufficient  to  allay  your  wrath? 

Geronte.  No,  it  is  a  matter  of  law. — But  what's 
this? 

(Enter    Leandre,    Lucinde,    Jacqueline  and 
Lucas.) 

Leandre.  I  appear  now  as  Leandre,  and  bring 
you  back  your  daughter.  We  intended  to  elope 
and  marry.  But  I  shall  not  steal  your  daughter; 
I  shall  only  receive  her  from  your  own  hands. — 
I  also  wish  to  let  you  know  that  I  have  just  received 
word  of  the  death  of  my  uncle,  who  has  left  me 
heir  to  a  large  fortune  and  


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF.  29 


Geronte.  A  large — ?  Ah,  my  son,  your  virtue 
is  of  the  highest  importance !  I  give  you  my 
daughter  with  the  greatest  of  pleasure. 

Martine.  Since  you  are  not  going  to  be  hanged, 
thank  me  for  making  you  a  doctor;  I  gained  you 
that  honor. 

Sganarelle.  And  also  the  honor  of  a  severe 
thrashing.   But  come,  I  forgive  you  this  time. 


CURTAIN. 


THE  WORLD'S  BEST  PLAYS 

By  Celebrated  European  Authors 


A  NEW  SERIES  OF  AMATEUR  PLAYS  BY  THE  BEST 
AUTHORS,  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN,  ESPECIALLY 
TRANSLATED  WITH  HISTORICAL  NOTES,  SUG- 
GESTIONS FOR  STAGING,  Etc.,  FOR  THE 
USE  OF  SCHOOLS,  COLLEGES,  AND 
DRAMATIC  CLUBS 

BARRETT   H.  CLARK 

General  Editor 


ITH  the  immensely  increased  demand  for  new 
plays  for  purposes  of  production  by  amateurs 
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ful selection  of  those  plays  which  can  be  easily 
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ature, and  at  the  same  time  to  their  adaptability  to  the  needs  and 
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The  Series,  under  the  personal  supervision  of  Mr.  Barrett  H. 
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Mrs.  Fiske  (season  1912-1913),  now  comprises  ten  volumes,  and  fifteen 
more  will  make  their  appearance  during  the  year-  Eventually 
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Each  volume  is  prefaced  by  a  concise  historical  note  by  Mr.  Clark, 
and  with  a  few  suggestions  for  staging. 


W 


Plays   Now  Ready 


INDIAN  SUMMER,  a  comedy  in  one  act  by  Meilhao  and 
Halevy.  This  little  play,  by  two  of  the  most  famous  writers  of 
comedy  of  the  last  century,  has  been  played  at  the  Com6die  Fran- 
caise  at  Paris  for  upwards  of  forty  yeara,  and  remains  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  popular  works  of  the  period.  Price  25  Cents. 

ROSALIE,  by  Max  Maurey.  A  "  Grand  Guignol "  comedy  in 
one  act,  full  of  verve  and  clever  dialogue.  Rosalie,  the  stubborn  maid, 
leads  her  none  too  amiable  master  and  mistress  into  uncomfortable 
complications  by  refusing  to  open  the  front  door  to  a  supposed  guest 
of  wealth  and  influence.   Price  25  Cents. 

MODESTY,  by  Paul.  Hervieu.  A  delightful  trifle  by  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  of  living  dramatists.  Price  25  Cents. 

THE  ART  OF  BEING  BORED,  (Le  Monde  oh  Von  s'JSnnuie),  a 
comedy  in  three  acts  by  Edouard  Pailleron-  Probably  the  best- 
known  and  most  frequently  acted  comedy  of  manners  in  the  realm 
of  nineteenth  century  French  drama.  It  is  replete  with  wit  and 
comic  situations.  For  nearly  forty  years  it  has  held  the  stage, 
while  countless  imitators  have  endeavored  to  reproduce  its  fresh- 
ness and  charm-  Price  25  Cents. 

A  MARRIAGE  PROPOSAL,  by  Anton  Tchekhoff,  a  comedy 
in  one  act,  by  one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  Russian  writers.  This 
little  farce  is  very  popular  in  Russia,  and  satirizes  the  peasants  of 
that  country  in  an  amusing  manner.  Price  25  Cents. 

THE  GREEN  COAT,  by  Alfred  de  Musset  and  Emile  Augier. 
A  slight  and  comic  character  sketch  of  the  life  of  Bohemian  artists 
In  Paris,  written  by  one  of  France's  greatest  poets  and  one  of  her 
best-known  dramatists.  Price  25  Cents. 

THE  WAGER,  by  Giuseppe  Giacosa.  This  one  act  poetic 
comedy,  written  by  the  most  celebrated  dramatist  of  modern  Italy, 
was  the  author's  first  work.  It  treats  of  a  wager  made  by  a  proud 
young  page,  who  risks  his  life  on  the  outcome  of  a  game  of  chess- 
Price  25  Cents. 


THE  LITTLE  SHEPHERDESS,  a  poetic  comedy  in  one  act. 
by  Andre  Rivoire.  A  charming  pastoral  sketch  by  a  well-known 
French  poet  and  dramatist.  Played  with  success  at  the  Comedie 
Francaise.  Price  25  Cents. 

PHORMIO,  a  Latin  comedy  by  Terence.  An  up-to-date  version 
of  the  famous  comedy.  One  of  the  masterpieces  of  Latin  drama; 
the  story  of  a  father  who  returns  to  find  that  his  son  has  married 
a  slave  girl.  Phormio,  the  parasite-villain  who  causes  the  numerous 
comic  complications,  succeeds  in  unraveling  the  difficulties,  and 
all  ends  happily.  Price  25  Cents. 

THE  TWINS,  a  Latin  farce  by  PiiAtmrs,  upon  which  Shake- 
speare founded  his  Comedy  of  Errors.   Price  25  Cents. 

THE  BOOR,  by  Anton  Tchekoff-  A  well-known  farce  by  the 
celebrated  Russian  master;  it  is  concerned  with  Russian  peasants, 
and  portrays  with  masterly  skill  the  comic  side  of  country  life. 
Price  25  Cents. 

THE  BLACK  PEARL,  by  Victorien  Sardou.  One  of  Sardou's 
most  famous  comedies  of  intrigue.  A  house  has,  it  is  thought, 
been  robbed-  But  through  skilful  investigation  it  is  found  that  the 
havoc  wrought  has  been  done  by  lightning.   Price  25  Cents. 

CHARMING  LEANDRE,  by  Theodore  de  Banvilmj.  The 
author  of  "  Gringoire  "  is  here  seen  in  a  poetic  vein,  yet  the  French- 
man's innate  sense  of  humor  recalls,  in  this  satirical  little  play,  the 
genius  of  Moliere.   Price  25  Cents. 

THE  POST-SCRIPTUM,  by  Emile  Augier.  Of  this  one-act 
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Price  25  Cents. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  FOURCHAMBAULT,  by  Emile  Augier- 
One  of  the  greatest  of  recent  French  family  dramas.  Although  the 
play  is  serious  in  tone,  it  contains  touches  which  entitle  it  to  a 
position  among  the  best  comedies  of  manners  of  the  times  Pricb 
50  Cents. 


THE  DOCTOR  IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF,  by  MoiilERB.  A 
famous  farce  by  the  greatest  of  French  dramatists.  Sganarelle  has 
to  be  beaten  before  he  will  acknowledge  that  he  is  a  doctor,  which 
he  is  not.  He  then  works  apparently  miraculous  cures.  The  play 
is  a  sharp  satire  on  the  medical  profession  in  the  17th  Century. 
Prire  25  Cents. 

BRIGNOL  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER,  by  Capus.  The  first 
comedy  in  English  of  the  most  sprightly  and  satirical  of  present- 
day  French  dramatists.  Price  50  Cents. 

CHOOSING  A  CAREER,  by  G.  A.  de  Caillavet.  Written  by 
one  of  the  authors  of  "  Love  Watches."  A  farce  of  mistaken 
identity,  full  of  humorous  situations  and  bright  lines.  Price  25 
Cents. 

FRENCH  WITHOUT  A  MASTER,  by  Tristan  Bernard.  A 
clever  farce  by  one  of  the  most  successful  of  French  dramatists. 
It  is  concerned  with  the  difficulties  of  a  bogus-interpreter  who 
does  not  know  a  word  of  French.  Price  25  Cents. 

PATER  NOSTER,  a  poetic  play  in  one  act,  by  Francois 
Coppee.  A  pathetic  incident  of  the  time  of  the  Paris  Commune, 
in  1871.   Price  25  Cents. 


